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By the stairs side
Stands
A tall stranger taking coats
White bags and light hats for that
Easy fumed air
Hanging  
Beside the wide-eyed picture
Framing the dark horses
Running
Trampling with laughter over the growing lawn.

A grey-shaded blooming shudder
Covering over the other,
Catches the light,
Hats seated,
cover over the other
Entrancing over the etched dancers lined against the walls.
Mountains that grew over the ancient
fire, could still be moved.
Behold, the sky's desire.
made myself a promise
no more men for me
then in a moment of self-pity
your smile was there
spreading hope
over me
like warm jam
Wish this were true
May I go in grace at my time,
slipping into that dark black void,
never knowing fear or panic
May visions of sweet memories
bring me peace for my hour of death
May I soar with what angels come
to guide me to that place waiting
where eternity will carry me
Let there be good I can do then
more thoughts of death
the scent of towels impregnated
with chlorine, mixes with petrichor
from the brief but violent storm

the mugginess still sits heavy in
the evening air as fruit bats
fly overhead, not one or two,
but tens and twenties, setting off
a mad barking frenzy among
the neighborhood dogs

twilight beckons to the darker night
and the smell of wet wood and sausages
cooking over takes the night
some one plays the guitar and the
notes drift unevenly on the breeze

houses become shadows, as the moon rises
the frogs begin to chorus and cats gossip
on the next door neighbor's garage
specteral shapes in silhouette
the sweet smell of jasmine
and honeysuckle wafts by

as we sit in the dark
awaiting the temperatures drop
anytime  now.....anytime
IN THE SUMMER '06
Two girls
parted ways
over fights they couldn't
understand
and the mind turns
art paves way
for more to demand

Both
Over
An artist
Trying to get underneath
His skin
Little did they know
That the boy has
Two girls
kept in his basement
as wax paintings
They look like each other
To him
They have the same impression
The same colors
Of personality
Difference in shape
But the *******
Bring warmth each and every
other way
And what's down there
Is a matter of mystery
To some
But not a stranger
To the brush
"It takes a while to be young"-Pablo Picasso
Is that what Love is?
Blood circling down a drain
Not shed from any impassioned blow, but
From the slow Invasion of my body by yours
Displacing my flesh for yours
So that if it all goes up in smoke (as it could- all too easily)
You will be etched onto my soul;
Incisions from which leak red bulbous drops
When I think of you.
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